


Conned Love

by CastielsAwkwardBoner



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Con Artists, Everyone's just human, Fluff and Angst, Fraud, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, aziraphale is so soft, lots of love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsAwkwardBoner/pseuds/CastielsAwkwardBoner
Summary: The same raggedy man on the same tube entrance. It's cold and A.Z. Fell just can't hold his words. He stops and doesn't give him the usual coin but an odd invitation. What could go wrong, right?Appearances can be deceitful. Can destiny be misled?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

-A coin for this poor blind man? A coin, for the love of God?

A raggedy beggar sat near the entrance of the tube Alexander Zadkiel Fell took every day. He saw the man, dressed all in black, long red hair and black sunglasses. His sad voice aways crept over him and made him feel miserable for the rest of the day.

Most people just past him by without barely noticing him. Most of that people didn’t give a crap and only a fraction of them would slow down their pace to drop a penny or two into his empty coffee cup.

But not him.

A. Z. always gave him a 10 pounds bill or more, depending on how good the business was that day. The beggar thanked him with a “God bless you, good man” and sometimes even adding a “sweet” between good and man.

That particular day, the air was cold enough to make you want to go back to bed and cancel all your plans. It smells like snow, thought A. Z. He closed his bookshop and wrapped himself tighter into his camel coloured winter coat and light tartan scarf.

There he saw the beggar again. The same black clothes, the same spot and the same position. His beggar...? A. Z. shook his head, trying to dismember the thought.

Our sweet blond felt pity for this unknown homeless person and the cruel weather slapping this skin. He came closer to the man sitting on the floor and just stood there. The beggar stopped his slow singing and sat still.

-I know you are there, I can feel you, angel.

A. Z. looked around, but he was the only one at the moment standing near enough to listen and talk to him.

-I am certainly not an angel, sir. You are here every day. Today it's quite cold, and I was wondering if there is something I could do for you?

The redhead oriented his face to Aziraphale and smiled. Terror crept into his guts. This man is bad. He is incredibly bad. But once again, he shook the feeling out of his head and decided to offer some help.

-Listen, I’m on my way to the market to buy groceries for the week. Would you like me to bring you something?

-Oh no, good angel. It is frigid today, and I’m afraid no shelter will wait for me, but it’s alright. You don’t have to bring me anything.

The man standing fidgeted and looked around concerned. He felt suddenly anxious and didn’t know what was the best thing to do. For him maybe the best was to leave the beggar behind and never come back but that wouldn’t help him to ease the miserable feeling out of him.

-Please, stay here, Mr… Uhm…

-Crowley, Anthony J. Crowley. And you are…?

-Alexander Z. Fell. Pleased to meet you. My friends call me A. Z. Please, Mr Crowley, stay where you are. I will be back shortly -said Alexander in a hurried murmur as he ran towards the tubes.

Crowley watched him leave while ruminating the name. Alexander. Z. Fell... A. Z. Fell… Zira Fell… Zira

Truth be told, Crowley has never been blind. Actually, he had a 20/20 sight and was very fast with details. Gold rings or watches, pearls, thick wallets and expensive shoes were usually what he desired to watch. But this man somehow managed to make him feel guilty for stealing. He saw him by the first time around a month and a half ago. He moved from Notting Hill to Tottenham Court Road and one morning his light, his aura came in on his peripheral sight. Always in light colours, blond fluffy hair, soft smile and soft hands. This man, A.Z. Fell, gave him all he got. 

Crowley once saw this bloke counting the coins so he had enough for his ticket and gave him 24 pounds. That day, he felt not only guilt but thankfulness. Mostly guilt because, come on, Crowley had no need for begging neither for stealing but the adrenaline boost with every pickpocketing act made him feel alive.

An hour ago, the angel was back, carrying what seemed to be heavy reusable bags. They smelled like the organic market. 

-I… oof… I am back, please, come with me, Mr Crowley. You won’t have to spend your night in the cold, God bless you.

Aziraphale helped him getting up and guided him through the streets of Soho for less than a prayer. Crowley grabbed his shoulder with iron strength but the blond barely seemed to notice. Nervousness was clenching his guts and was making him shake, a thing the other man did feel.

-You have nothing to fear. I will not hurt you, I promise -told him the man in front of him with a soft, tranquil voice. They both believed it because it was true anyway but it made Crowley uneasy. 

All his life, Crowley had been alright with the ideas of cheating, stealing and lying. For him, it was a complete win. Coming from a hard -if that he could be called hard- background, he always felt the need to be a conman. His family was rich, well known but all families have a black sheep. Kicked out of his own house, they took all his money and forced him to look for a decent real job. Obviously he tried to outsmart them by being a beggar and the chairman of an underground thief union. He felt rather proud of all the obstacles he managed to dismantle and use to his favour. But this was the first time his “job” was actually making him feel bad.

He let the blond man, Azira, lead him through the half wet, half-frozen streets with ease. 

Then they stopped.

-Please, wait here for a moment, I must open my… well, my house. 

Crowley looked around barely moving his head, eyes hidden behind the dark sunglasses and barely moving his head. They walked into Soho, straight to the bookshop. It was not a bookshop. It was THE bookshop. The owner opened at erratic hours and he heard the man once turned his open sign to closed while keeping eye contact with a client, who wasn’t actually a client but more like a thief working for the Union sent by Crowley himself.

The leader of the Union had heard about a certain bookshop owner who happened to have the rarest book of prophecies. The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter was the holy grail of all prophecies books and rumour had who had that book. And he lusted for it.

What were the odds, this own Mecenas, his patron was the very owner of The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter. 

This was his chance to take the book…


	2. Chapter II. Pasta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cup of tea went cold. A forgotten plate of pasta. Guilt.

For Crowley it didn’t look like house. It was clearly a bookshop. It even had a big A.Z. Fell & Co. Bookshop. He had heard of this exact bookshop. It was THE bookshop. His employees at the Union told him the owner opened at erratic hours and that he once turned his open sign to closed while keeping eye contact with a potential client.

For the professional thief, it was a miracle sent by heaven. Or hell. There was a specific book in here he desired more than anything in the world. The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter. The holy grail of prophecies books.

What were the odds. His new personal Maecenas. His patron was the owner of the book he lusted for.

At the moment Crowley set a foot inside the bookshop the smell gave him goose bumps. The whole place did. It could easily have a creepy aura but Zira’s presence enlightened the whole room and it made him feel happy, almost in heaven.

It smelled like old books, a hint of dust and hot coco. It smelled like cinnamon and something else he couldn’t put a finger on.

Without delay, Zira took his guest to his favourite chair in the living room, sat him down and put a blanket on his knees while chatting nonsense about books.

Fell stepped back and looked at him with something Crowley didn’t want to acknowledge but it made him feel… _Things_.

-This is my favourite spot in the house. It’s between the warmth of the fire home and the draught of the main window. Do you feel it? –His hand fell on his could shoulder and Crowley, once more, shuddered.

-Oh yes. Very nice.

His light sarcasm floated in the air, unknown to the host. Silence fell between them again so Zira broke it with a hawk.

-Would you fancy a cuppa? I have a fantastic jasmine tea I’ve kept unused for a while.

-I’d love to but I do not want to be a burden, good angel.

-You have nothing to worry about. This is now your home too and you will never be a burden.

Crowley was looking straight ahead so he didn’t see Zira but he clearly felt the smile creeping in his voice as he talked and left to the kitchen, behind a floor to ceiling column of books.

The invited man lifted his sunglasses and looked around. His yellow-ish brown eyes observed what surrounded him, trying to find the book he craved for, sadly it wasn’t anywhere near to see.

The armchair was comfortable, the kind of expensive that hugs you deliciously. The blanket given was surely cashmere. It WAS cashmere.

_Is this bloke rich? Who is this?_

The next thing he heard was a loud curse and hurried steps coming to him. Stepping back into his charade he sat still with his sunglasses on.

-Sorry for taking so long, here –said the man to the redhead sitting on his armchair as he put a cup of warm tea on his hands. It was a nice change of temperature and made Crowley shiver lightly. –Like I said before, Anthony, my house, my home is yours too as long as you want to stay.

Zira’s hands lingered longer on Crowley’s than a regular stranger to stranger kind of touch, making him shiver even more. His wasn’t uncomfortable. His hands were fleshy, silky and warm against his frozen, thin hands.

Crowley managed to put a faint smile on his face to reassure the kindness of this man. He didn’t even know him and yet he offered Crowley his place to stay.

-I hope you don’t mind if I stay just for tonight. I wish you no burden –said Crowley in the fakest way he could.

Fell looked at him and smiled back fondly, clearly, the sarcasm in Crowley’s voice passed high over his head.

-Of course not, my dear. Is there anything else you wish for now? Are you hungry? Cold? Tired? –the eyes of this round man were burning his skin and tentacles of dark sticky guilt moved in his stomach.

-No, not at all. I’m perfectly fine now. Thank you… -As Crowley tried to brush his offers off, his stomach growled like the unfed beast it was. The heat climbed up Crowley’s neck and into his face but a bell-like laugh broke his embarrassment.

-I mean it when I said my home is yours too, Anthony. Come with me, please –the blond man grabbed his hand off the beggar’s lap and with a soft tug asked him to stand up. Without leaving his cup, Crowley stood up and followed Zira to the back store, amazed how this man didn’t seem to fear him.

Step by step, Zira guided him into the kitchen and sat him down. He then proceeded to turn on the stove, take pans and food out of the fridge and out of the cupboards. In no time, there was a delicious smell of garlic, cheese, and then a big bowl of cheesy Alfredo pasta was on his hands and in front of him, the blond man with round face.

_Guilty. You’re onzzzzce more manipulating people for your own benefit. Zzzzscum. Didn’t you have enough with having zzzsomeone killed?_

The room started spinning, his head pounded but it was manageable. A deafening buzz in his ears and bile shoot up his throat. And it all stopped as it began. With a pressure on his arm and a pair of blue eyes, grounding him.

-Anthony? Anthony! Are you okay?

_Zzzcum_

Tiny black dots danced in front of his eyes as he tried to hold onto those ocean eyes but the buzzing hit him in the guts and his body hit the floor. Everything went pitch dark as he sank unconscious.


End file.
